"I have some absolutely wonderful news for you," Leia announced as she waltzed into their room, Taylor looking over at her with a smile as she looked away her TV show to give her girlfriend her full attention.

"Well, do share," Taylor replied, leaning against the back of the bed as she grinned back at the excited singer.

Leia flopped onto the bed, bouncing once, her legs dangling off the side.

"Riven and Azul finally set a date!"

Taylor's eyes widened, the grin stretching broader as she muted the TV. "No way. When?"

"August fifteenth," Leia sang, catching Taylor's gaze, her own dancing with delight.

"Leia, that's-"

"Right in the middle of your two-week break. You can actually go. I mean, we can go, if-"

Taylor laughed, reaching out and holding her hands for a second. Leia paused, realising that she had just cut off Taylor from saying something else.

"I was just going to say that's like, crazy soon? It's what, the twenty-seventh of July today? So that's like... two and a half weeks away, right?"

Leia nodded, smiling so hard her cheeks ached.

"I know! Azul told me in the car just there right before I came up here. He sounded like he just won the lottery. He told me to give Riven some space today, as when I called him earlier he was like crying, which means he's either overjoyed or having a nervous meltdown - either way, Azul said Riven's sister is handling it, whatever that means."

Taylor squeezed Leia's hand, her thumb tracing lazy circles across the back of it. "That means we can actually go. Together."

Leia coloured red, suddenly shy.

"I mean, unless you don't want to. But I'd like to. I want them to see us. I want you to be my date." She stole a look at Taylor, blue eyes bright and earnest. "That is, if you'll have me."

Taylor let out a low, delighted laugh, the kind that started from deep in her chest and tumbled out like a melody. "Leia Hudson, are you asking me to be your extremely public wedding date less than twenty-four hours since we debuted?"

"Debuted? We are not in Bridgerton," Leia sat up, knees drawn to her chest, and nodded, eyes sparkling with mischief. "But yeah, I guess I am. I want to dance with you, and eat way too much cake, and maybe even catch the bouquet. You could sign it, if I do. Can let Riven sell it on eBay afterwards to fund his Honeymoon."

Taylor raised an eyebrow.

"If you catch the bouquet, I'm going to have to physically restrain Georgie from planning our wedding by the next morning."

Leia didn't even flinch. "Let her try. I want to see what theme she'd force us into."

Taylor rested her chin on Leia's shoulder, arms coming up and over to nestle around her waist. The world - her world, at least, the part she wanted to exist in - shrank to this bed, this too-cool room with thin sheets and a half-eaten cheese plate languishing on the side table. Leia always managed to make any place feel like home, and being back at their apartment after the insane chaos of last night's show just proved that. Taylor knew she wasn't supposed to get used to the level of codependence that they'd formed since the tour had started, but she couldn't help it.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a scuffling sound near the foot of the bed. Tate had walked in now, throwing himself dramatically on the ground. Both women chuckled a little.

The cats were scatted around - Olivia sprawled over Taylor's notebook on the desk, Meredith curled around her laptop charger, the third - little Benji - slinking across the room towards the bed and insinuating himself between Tate and the ground.

She looked up at Taylor, who was now glancing from Leia to Tate and back again, her blue eyes gone a little soft at the corners.  Leia wondered if Taylor saw it too... how this was the thing she'd always wanted, in a secret part of her heart she never let anyone touch. The easy, golden everyday-ness of togetherness. The way two people and their little flurry of pets could share a room after a long day and just... be.

Leia's phone buzzed, but she ignored it. She studied Taylor's face instead, drawing in the little details: the crescent shadow under her left eye, the faint trace of sun on her nose, the way her mouth curled up even when she pretended indifference.

"Earth to Leia," Taylor murmured softly. "You're staring again."

"I know."

The silence between them was plush, the hum of hotel air and distant city life cushioning them. Leia stretched herself out full length and let her head settle on Taylor's lap as Taylor absently braided and unbraided the ends of her hair.

"What would you say if I booked us dinner?" Taylor asked suddenly, a gentle smile on her face as she looked down at Leia. "I just really want to celebrate. Not the wedding - although that's great too - but the world finally knows about us now and nothing bad happened. No one died and nothing exploded and we both still have careers..."

Leia snorted, but her lips tugged upward, a smile brimming from somewhere in her ribcage.

"Low bar, babe. But point taken." She closed her eyes, feeling Taylor's absent-minded knotting, the easy intimacy electrifying her scalp. "Where would we even go? It's, like, post-paparazzi right now. TMZ probably has a drone outside the building."

"And do we care? Do we even need to care?"

Leia hummed, her eyes still shut. She didn't say anything because she knew Taylor could tell from that simple gesture that she agreed - there was no need for them to be concerned if there was paparazzi outside right now. They had nothing to hide.

"Fancy or casual?"

"Your choice."

"Well, if we're celebrating... what about Emilio's Ballato? That Italian that you said Blake recommended?"

Taylor grinned, her face transforming from relaxed to the wide-mouthed dork Leia fell in love with.

"It's a date. Also, you're wearing that blue dress. The one with the bows. No takesies backsies."

The air in the room felt lighter, as if the oxygen had been replaced with champagne bubbles. For a second, Leia tried to hold onto this - the idea of a future with Taylor that didn't involve hiding.

She let herself watch Taylor, the way she always did in the rare moments when Taylor's guard was all the way down... the flecks of darker blue that ringed her irises, the way she worried her lower lip with her teeth when she was happy, and the way she never seemed to care enough about her t-shirt to notice if it was on inside out.

Something in Leia's chest spread, slow and sweet, like honey melting in hot tea. Maybe this was what the agony had been for. The late-night phone calls, the whispered fights in hotel bathrooms, the months of pretending there was nothing to pretend about. To arrive at this: a life where she could love Taylor Swift out loud.

"What did you just say?"

"Hmm?"

"You just said something, this is what something had been for?"

Oh, Leia thought. She hadn't realised she'd muttered that out loud.

"This is what the agony had been for? I was just thinking about everything that we've been through to get here."

Taylor blinked, almost as if she felt the thought land, and then abruptly stopped running her fingers through Leia's hair, reaching for her phone at the bedside. She thumbed out a quick note, smiling to herself as she did.

Leia propped herself up on one elbow. "What are you writing?"

Taylor's cheeks dusted pink, she was always so unselfconscious until she was caught in the act of being herself. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"I've just been feeling really motivated to write again. Like, obsessively. I think you're good luck."

Leia rolled her eyes, but her face was wide open, radiant. "Am I your muse, then?" She put on an exaggerated, faux-sexy pout.

"Shut up, dork."

_____

Outside the restaurant, the sidewalk hummed with its usual night buzz. A couple of paparazzi had already clustered near the entrance, tipped off no doubt, their lenses poised, heads swivelling every time a black car rolled up to the curb.

In the backseat of their SUV, Leia exhaled slowly through her nose. Her heart was tapping too fast, but her face didn't show it. Beside her, Taylor adjusted the sleeve of her jacket - calm, composed, but Leia could feel the slight tension in her fingers.

Drew turned slightly in the passenger seat, his voice low and even. "We're good to go. It's not packed, but they're clocking you."

Taylor looked over at Leia. "Still want to do this?"

Leia didn't hesitate. She reached for the door handle, then stopped, glanced at Taylor with a small, knowing smile and got out herself.

She circled around the car to the other side quickly, heels clicking softly on the pavement, eyes forward and smiling gently as paparazzi went wild the second they realised who it was - and made the instant assumption that they knew who was about to get out the other side of the car.

And then Leia opened the door for Taylor.

Taylor paused just for a second before stepping out, the corners of her mouth curling upward with something deeper than amusement - something almost reverent. Her eyes locked on Leia's as she stood up, her body lightly pressing against Leia's side as she closed the door behind Taylor.

"Really?" she murmured, just audible over the city noise.

Leia's voice was low, but steady. "You've been opening doors for the world for years. I can open one for you."

Taylor looked at her like she'd just been handed something precious. Like maybe, for the first time, she didn't have to be the strong one, the front one, the show.

Leia offered her hand. Taylor took it.

No sunglasses. No baseball caps. No ducking or rushing. They walked toward the restaurant slowly, like they had every right to be there - because they did. Drew hovered just behind them, letting them set the pace, his presence a quiet shadow rather than a shield.

The flashes started almost instantly. A ripple of motion across the sidewalk as casual bystanders craned their necks to see what the current commotion was from outside the restaurant. One of the paparazzi actually gasped aloud - the realisation seeming to hit in real time. Taylor Swift and Leia Hudson. Together. Walking hand in hand. In the open.

Taylor's hand stayed in Leia's even as they neared the awning and a group of other guests paused to let them pass. Leia gave a soft thank you, her voice polite, the kind of tone she used with fans and hotel clerks and every stranger she was trying to keep a boundary with. Taylor nodded at a hostess holding the door.

But just before they stepped inside, Taylor tugged slightly at Leia's hand, just enough to make her pause. She leaned in close, letting her breath tickle Leia's ear as she whispered, "You opening the door for me like that might be my Roman Empire."

Leia bit back a grin. "I'll add it to the list of things I plan on doing again."

They disappeared into the restaurant, the sound of cameras still shuttering behind them.

Inside, the lighting was warm, golden and intimate in a way the outside could never be. The host greeted them with deference and led them to a booth tucked just enough into a corner to offer privacy, but not so much that it felt like hiding. They would both be oblivious to not notice some of the heads that snapped in their direction, Taylor even stopping for a second to say hello to a producer that she'd worked with years before.

Taylor slid in first to the booth, Leia following. The second their hands separated, Taylor's leg pressed lightly against hers under the table.

Drew settled nearby - not hovering, but present - just close enough to keep eyes off them if needed. In an ideal world, he'd have not needed to sit at a table by himself but Azul was off tonight and they figured Drew was more than capable of managing the twenty second walk to the car.

Taylor took a breath, then looked at Leia.

"That was the first time I've done that in a really long time. Walked in somewhere with someone like that. No cover. No panic plan."

Leia leaned in. "How did it feel?"

Taylor smiled, the kind of smile that came from deep in the chest. "Like I finally showed up to my own life."

Leia reached across the table and touched her fingers, gently. "You've been in your life this whole time. I'm just glad I get to walk through it with you."

Taylor blinked like the words stunned her a little. "You're kind of hot when you're being this confident, you know that?"

"Only for you."

Their fingers stayed linked as menus arrived, but neither looked at them for a long time.

Let the cameras flash. Let the headlines churn.

Tonight, they were no longer pretending not to be in love.

___

Gracie's voice floated through the PA system, warm and clear, as she and Taylor worked through their harmonies up on the stage. Down below, on the stadium floor, Leia wound up a half-chewed tennis ball and launched it across the empty aisle between floor seats.

Tate tore after it with a burst of energy that made all three Haim sisters laugh, dodging his tail as he barrelled past.

"Okay, wait," Este said, pointing dramatically. "This is absolutely not what I expected backstage at the last week of the Eras Tour US leg."

"You thought there'd be... less dog?" Leia teased, flopping onto one of the padded stools near the catwalk.

"I thought there'd be more chaos," Danielle chimed in. "But it's giving, like, domestic bliss. Dog. Sister. Girlfriend doing vocal warmups. You're thriving. I feel weirdly soothed."

Georgie, sitting cross-legged on the turf and mid-throw herself, glanced over at them.

"I've been here two hours and I've heard at least three different ballads and four versions of Taylor saying 'wait, one more time.' So yeah. Domestic bliss might be generous."

Tate galloped back, tail wagging wildly, ball in mouth, tongue lolling sideways like a drunk emoji. He skidded to a stop in front of Leia, dropped the ball, then flopped down on her feet.

Leia reached down and scratched behind his ears.

"He's thriving. This is probably the highlight of his entire life."

"Mine too, honestly," Alana said, sipping from a Stanley cup she'd brought. "Like, look at us. Sofi Stadium. And you're the reason Twitter broke last week."

Este swirled her water bottle and leaned in, lowering her voice as though the empty stadium were a confessional. "So what's it been like? You and Taylor. Out in the open. Is it, like... totally bats, or does it feel normal already?"

"Honestly? It's both. Every time my phone vibrates, I'm convinced it's an incoming crisis—but then it's just Riven sending me memes or voice notes of him screaming into a pillow. He says he's never been happier to have a week off in his life. His actual words were 'I'm on the Amalfi Coast, but more importantly, I'm blissfully unaware of your shenanigans for the first time in three years.'"

"But you're happy? Like, really happy?"

Leia looked up for a second, and she blinked, as if startled by how easy the answer was.

"Yeah. I'm... weirdly good. Like 'someone should check if I'm in my right timeline' good."

Danielle leaned back on her hands, eyes thoughtful. "You haven't had a normal week in forever. You sure this isn't some kind of trauma response? Like when a dog gets rescued and just instantly pees on the carpet to claim its territory?"

Leia smiled, but there was a softness to it, a gratitude so immense it almost looked like sadness.

"If this is a trauma response, I hope I never recover."

A sudden cheer in the distance signalled Taylor and Gracie wrapping their last run-through.

Leia watched as Taylor hopped down from the stage, golden hair flying everywhere, her cheeks pink from belting in the heat. To anyone else, Taylor was a phenomenon, a hurricane, a walking headline. To Leia, right now, she was the one person in the world who could make a crowded, echoing stadium feel like a backyard.

Taylor jogged over, Gracie in tow, both glowing with that unselfconscious, post-performance energy that Leia adored. Gracie immediately made a beeline for Georgie, slumping onto the ground next to her and stealing a sip from Georgie's drink.

Taylor didn't even hesitate, she slipped right in beside Leia and Tate, arms thrown over them both, her forehead pressed to Leia's temple.

"You plotting world domination with Haim again?" Taylor asked, her voice still husky from rehearsal.

"Always," Este said, saluting with her water bottle. "But you're, like, a little bit busy being the face of the gay agenda this week."

Leia felt Taylor's laugh against her shoulder before she heard it.

"Well, that's one way to describe it," Taylor said.

Before anyone could fire off another joke, the atmosphere shifted. Like a subtle drop in temperature, or the way your ears prick before thunder hits.

Tree was approaching across the turf — blazer on despite the heat, tablet clutched close to her side, her walk brisk, jaw set. There was nothing casual in her expression. Not even her usual tightly-wound PR poise. She looked... nervous.

Leia sat up straighter.

"Uh-oh," Danielle murmured, noticing too.

"Should I hide?" Este added.

Tree stopped just short of the group, her gaze flicking to Taylor, then to Leia, then back again. "Can I borrow you for a second?" Her voice was low, carefully neutral, but there was a crack in the edge of it that Leia couldn't quite ignore.

Leia blinked, then stood slowly. "Sure. Everything okay?"

Tree hesitated. Just for half a beat too long.

Taylor was already on her feet. "I'll come."

Tree gave a tight nod. "Yeah. Okay."

Leia caught Georgie's concerned glance as she handed Tate's ball off. "Keep him occupied," she murmured, trying to keep her voice light. "You know how dramatic he gets when I leave him."

But the attempt at humour didn't land. The Haim sisters had all gone quiet.

Taylor reached for Leia's hand as they followed Tree across the turf, walking past rows of empty seats glowing orange in the low evening sun. The stadium looked calm, peaceful. It didn't match the sudden noise building in Leia's chest.

Tree led them down a short hallway and through a side door that opened into a small production lounge — half-dark, the low hum of AC filling the silence.

The door closed behind them with a soft thud.

Tree turned around, her face unreadable.

Leia swallowed. Her heart was tapping now, high in her throat. "What's going on?"

Tree looked at her for a moment. Then her eyes flicked briefly to Taylor, then back again. She took a slow breath.

"I wanted to get Riven to break this news but I don't even know if he'll have seen his emails," she said, voice quieter now. "But I don't know how long we've got before it hits the press."

Leia froze. "Before what hits the press?"

Taylor's hand tightened around hers.

Tree reached into the tablet case and pulled out her phone instead - a screen already lit, paused on a video thumbnail. Her thumb hovered, then tapped.

The footage played in silence.

A grainy video. Poor lighting. Maybe a hotel suite. Leia recognised the outline of her own body instantly. Her hair longer. Eyes hollowed out. Fidgeting. Her arm twitching nervously. She was sitting on the edge of a couch, a man beside her - a man she hadn't seen since the FBI sting in 2019. The very sting that was on the video in front of them.

Dylan Redcrown.

Her chest constricted.

Taylor made a soft, involuntary noise, and Leia had to swallow back a bitter surge of bile. Because she remembered. Of course she remembered every second of that night, the way you remember the moment a car jumps the curb and you know, with static clarity, that nothing will be the same.

The sound was low, fuzzy, but clear enough.

She remembered the taste of copper in her mouth, the feel of Dylan's too-warm hand on her knee, the ugly, bloated nostalgia for a version of herself that had not yet burned down her own life. She remembered the sick thrill of the relapse itself, even as her brain screamed at her to stop, to get up, to run.

Dylan coaxing. Pressing. Her voice answering, high and tense. She watched, frozen, as she took a small bill from his hand. Watched herself shake, hesitate, then -

Leia felt her stomach plummet, the air in the room burning thin. She tried to move, to breathe, but her body was a sunken cathedral and the oxygen had gone out with the congregation. Her hands prickled with pins and needles and she couldn't blink. Couldn't look away.

The video cut, jumpy, to a new angle - someone's body cam, it seemed, the time-stamp lurching moments ahead. Dylan's voice cursing, the sound of a door slamming, and then the rush of bodies in blue windbreakers, badges like sledgehammers, the chaos of arrest.

The camera caught her face, caught her gaunt and drawn and gone; caught the tears and the snot and the unstoppable shaking, the pitiful way she collapsed onto her knees in the mess of carpet. She wanted to scream, to mute the whole universe, but the video kept rolling.

An agent approached, blue gloves on, kneeling in front of her - Thena, Leia recognised. She took her face in her hands, gently - more gently than she deserved, she'd thought at the time - and said, "You're gonna be okay. Hey, look at me."

Her own voice, thin and high and rasped from crying: "Please don't let them see this. Tell Taylor, please. I don't want her to see me like this."

Leia didn't remember that - but she supposed she'd just snorted five lines of cocaine in a row, so that made sense.

Taylor spoke first. "Turn it off."

Tree did.

The silence after was deafening.

Leia felt like she couldn't get enough air into her lungs. Taylor was the first to move, her thumb tracing a frantic line over Leia's wrist, the touch so desperate Leia thought she might burst into sobs just from that. Tree was watching her, unreadable, her mouth drawn in a hard line.

"I-" Leia started, but her tongue felt two sizes too big for her mouth. She tried again. "How? How did this get out?"

Tree exhaled, finally letting her own face collapse into something softer, almost sorrowful. "We don't know yet but Thena and her team are looking into this. It was restricted evidence but it seems TMZ managed to get a hold of it this morning and I just got sent it to provide a comment as Taylor's representative. They're releasing it this afternoon."

"I said not to show you," Leia whispered finally, eyes fixed on the floor. "I begged them. I didn't want you to see it."

Taylor didn't move. "I know."

Leia's voice cracked like glass underfoot. "It's embarrassing."

"Leia-" Taylor began, but she held up a hand, chest tight, trying to keep control over the mess rising up in her.

"No. It is. I was high. And crying. And asking for you like, like you were the only person who could fix it. And we weren't even together. We hadn't been for months. You were with someone else. I had ruined everything, and I still... I still said your name like it meant something."

Her voice dropped.

"And now that's the part they're going to run with. That I was pathetic. Still hung up. Still clinging."

Taylor didn't speak at first. She just stepped closer, calm and sure, and reached for her hand again. Leia let her.

"I don't care," Taylor said, simply. "About the video. About what you said. About how you looked. None of it."

Leia's laugh came sharp and bitter. "You should. Because people are going to say I dragged you into this. That I'm some wreck who clung to the first person who ever showed her kindness."

Tree finally spoke - not cutting in, but gently, like she'd been holding her breath until now. "And people who say that are idiots."

Leia glanced over at her, startled.

Tree didn't look away.

"I saw the way you rebuilt your life. Every inch of it. I saw what it cost you just to show up some days. And I saw how you protected her - Taylor - even when she didn't know you were doing it. I think the world knows how resilient you've been Leia. You put that man away for almost twenty-five years and lived to tell the tale."

Leia's jaw clenched. The soft encouragement from Tree didn't dissolve the sting, but it forced a new ache up her throat, a desperate relic of gratitude and history and unsteady pride. She wanted to swallow it down but it pressed so hard she nearly choked. She knuckled her eye, hard, and for a second it was just the hotel carpet and her pale, snot-smeared reflection in Taylor's shadow all over again.

Taylor was already moving, always the first to leap into danger, her arms around Leia, warm and tight. It was the firm grip of someone who'd learned, the hard way, what it was to hold on to the right thing at the wrong time.

"I'm not ashamed of you," Taylor whispered, the words so private Leia almost missed them. "I wish you could see you the way I do."

Leia pressed her cheek against Taylor's collarbone, hiding, and Tree turned away, giving them privacy. Generation after generation of disaster management could not have prepared Tree for this and yet, she handled it like a true professional, straightening a stack of papers that clearly didn't need straightening and pretending to check her phone.

Leia's hands shook, but she didn't pull away.

"I'm scared," she said, voice barely audible.

Taylor leaned in, pressing her forehead to Leia's, steadying her. "Me too. But I'd rather be scared with you than safe without you."

Tree took a breath, her tone still calm, but with a quiet urgency. "We don't get to stop it. It's coming. The whole world is going to see what you survived. But the way we answer it? That's still ours."

Leia looked between them - the woman she loved and the woman who had once told her not to screw up the second chance she'd been given. Now they were both looking at her like she was something worth defending.

And maybe... maybe that was enough.

She nodded, slowly.

"Okay."

Not okay as in fixed.

Okay as in ready.

___

TMZ EXCLUSIVE
SHOCK VIDEO: LEIA HUDSON CAUGHT IN FBI DRUG STING — CRYING, HIGH, AND BEGGING FOR TAYLOR SWIFT

Published: 3:12 PM PT | By TMZ Staff

Pop star Leia Hudson may have just gone public with her relationship to Taylor Swift, but a very different side of the singer is now making headlines - and it's not the one she wants you to see.

TMZ has obtained leaked video footage from a 2019 FBI sting operation that resulted in the arrest of Hudson's then-boyfriend, disgraced producer Dylan Redcrown, and what the footage reveals is jaw-dropping.

In the grainy video, an emaciated and visibly distressed Hudson is seen sitting in a dimly lit hotel room, twitching, crying, and - most notably - appearing to snort a substance believed to be cocaine directly from her then-boyfriend's table. She slurs through sentences, repeats herself, and at one point stares blankly into space before whispering a now-infamous line:

"Please don't let Taylor see this."

Her desperation for the singer, who at that time was no longer publicly linked to her, is palpable - and frankly, hard to watch.

The video cuts to footage from a federal agent's bodycam, showing Hudson crying on the floor after the sting, panicked and incoherent as FBI officers arrest Redcrown just feet away. One agent attempts to calm her, but the clip ends before it's clear whether she was taken into custody herself.

Fans of Hudson will remember that she testified against Redcrown in court later that year, helping to secure his 24-year prison sentence with no possibility of parole. During that trial, Hudson claimed she was blackmailed into maintaining a fake relationship with Redcrown and using drugs on camera under threat.

Even more eyebrow-raising? Sources close to the industry tell TMZ there are whispers Hudson never fully left cocaine behind - despite the singer's repeated claims of sobriety and her "clean image" rebrand in recent years. Hudson has spoken publicly about her recovery and time in rehab, but some insiders say it may have been more PR than personal transformation.

A rep for Taylor Swift declined to comment on the footage, and no statement has been issued by Hudson's team as of this writing. However, the leak comes just days after the two were seen holding hands and entering a trendy Manhattan restaurant together which marked their first official public appearance as a couple after hard-launching with a kiss at the Eras Tour the night before.

Social media is already ablaze with speculation. While some fans are defending Hudson and calling the leak "a blatant violation of privacy," others are asking hard questions about her stability - and Swift's choice to re-enter the relationship.

One thing's certain: the timing of this release couldn't be worse for the couple. What was meant to be a celebration of love is quickly turning into a PR nightmare.

We'll update as this story develops.

___

@queer4swift
so let me get this straight. leia hudson gets blackmailed, coerced, and arrested on camera — and y'all are more focused on her crying about taylor than the actual trauma? we're done here.

@gracieismymom
can't believe y'all are acting shocked that someone in hollywood did coke like babe she's a singer not a nun

@thestarlitewitch
i'm not a leia fan and even i can see this is a hit job. how convenient that no one's mentioning the YEARS she's spent sober and helping other women get clean. the internet is evil.

@champagnepr0bl3ms
everyone acting like this is brand new info when SHE TESTIFIED ABOUT IT IN COURT. tmz just wants clicks. nothing more.

@fauxfolklore
love is cute until your girlfriend's FBI footage leaks and suddenly your billion-dollar image is tied to drugs and scandal. taylor babe... run.

@swiftieaccountability
you can care about taylor AND understand that leia is a survivor. this is not a scandal. it's someone's trauma being exploited.

@hudsonisariverinegypt
it's fucking evil to watch a four-year-old video of a woman being trafficked, blackmailed, and high, and go "i bet she's still using." what is wrong with people??

___

Leia had gone back to the hotel, intending on skipping the show.

The room was dim, all the lights turned off except for the cold blue glow of the television. It wasn't playing anything. She'd just turned it on for the sound - soft, low static, something to fill the quiet. But it didn't work. The silence had a shape of its own tonight. It pressed down on her chest like a stone slab.

Leia sat curled at the foot of the bed, legs drawn in, bare feet flat against the comforter. The remote dangled loosely in one hand. She hadn't blinked in what felt like minutes.

Every time she closed her eyes, it played again.

The video.

Her.

That version of herself.

It didn't even feel like her. But it was. There was no denying it. The haunted girl with the twitching hands, the hollow cheeks, the desperate eyes. She had tried for so long to forget what it felt like to be that girl - high, ashamed, cracked open and barely stitched back together. And now the whole world had seen it.

She stared at the TV. Not watching. Not really.

In her mind, she could still feel it... the grain of the couch beneath her thighs. The sting in her nose. Dylan's voice, syrupy and cruel. Her own voice, so thin, so pleading. Tell Taylor, please.

God.

Leia pulled her knees closer, pressing her forehead against them. Her hands were trembling again. She'd thought that was behind her - the shaking, the spiralling, the sense that one wrong breath could send her over the edge.

But tonight, she felt raw.

Like a wire with the insulation stripped away.

The worst part wasn't even the drug use. Or the sobbing. Or the collapsed dignity.

The worst part was how badly she'd still wanted Taylor, even then. Even after she'd left. Even after she'd ruined everything. Some part of her still believed that if Taylor had just walked into that hotel room, everything would have stopped hurting.

And now everyone knew it.

A choked sound caught in her throat, halfway between a laugh and a sob. She dropped the remote. Pressed her palms into her eyes hard enough to see stars.

She'd come so far. She'd worked so hard. Rehab. Therapy. Every sleepless night. Every day she hadn't picked up a drink, hadn't craved the burn in her throat, the numbness behind her eyes. All of it, so she could claw her way back to a life she didn't hate.

So she could become someone worthy.

And tonight, all of that felt like it had shattered in a single video.

She didn't want Taylor to see her like that. She'd meant it then. She meant it now.

Leia crawled back on the bed, burying herself in the pile of blankets and pillows she'd made earlier. Tate wasn't here. Taylor wasn't here. The silence cracked loud and sharp around her, the hotel suite feeling suddenly too big and too empty all at once.

She pressed her face into the pillow, willing her mind to go blank. But all she could hear was her own voice, high and breaking, echoing in her head like it was tattooed on the inside of her skull:

"Please don't let Taylor see this."

Too late.

Too fucking late.

The phone buzzed on the nightstand again. Leia barely glanced at it, expecting another alert. Another article. Another headline. But this wasn't a notification.

Mum & Dad
Calling.

She stared at the screen.

They talked sometimes. Birthdays. Christmas. The occasional check-in if she'd done a TV interview they happened to catch. Her mum always sounded slightly too formal, like she was speaking to a colleague, not a daughter. Her dad asked about the weather before asking about her. They weren't cruel — just careful. Distant. Like they'd never fully known what to do with the mess of her.

Leia let it ring.

But then something twisted in her chest.

They'd seen it. They had to have seen it. The whole world had. And maybe they were calling to say it outright. That she was a disgrace. That they were embarrassed.

She picked up on the tenth ring, already bracing for the cold click of disappointment.

"Leia," her mum said, the word a question and a welcome and a warning, all at once. Her accent always thickened when she was upset. "Are you there?"

She said nothing for a moment, every muscle in her jaw locked tight. Then, "Yeah. Sorry. Bad signal," she lied, voice brittle as glass.

A hush on the other end, then the sound of her dad's voice - low, almost gentle, like he hadn't spoken at this volume since her last near-overdose.

"We saw the news," he said, and Leia could picture him, the way he'd always rubbed at the bridge of his nose when he had to deliver bad news. "Just now."

She felt her lungs clamp shut. There was nothing to say that would make this easier.

"It's old," she managed, "that video. They just want clicks. I'm not using again."

Her mum inhaled, sharp and wet.

"We didn't know," she said, the words trembling, "that it was as bad as that."

Leia waited for the lecture, the conditional love, the sharp-edged shame. She deserved it.

But her mum surprised her. "You are our child," she said, voice startlingly fierce. "And we weren't there for you. I didn't see, Leia."

Her dad spoke next, slow and careful.

"We should have done more. I should have come to get you after the second relapse. I thought... your team kept saying you needed time. That you were working. I didn't know you were..."

He fumbled for the right word; she could hear his whole life of unspoken apologies in that pause.

"Broken?" Leia offered, because it was easier to say it herself than to hear it from them.

"No," her mum said, sudden and sure. "Not broken. Hurt. But not broken."

Leia pressed her palm to her forehead, fingers splayed so wide they left pale marks. "You don't have to say that. You saw the video."

"Of course we saw it," her dad replied, voice thicker than she remembered. "We saw a scared girl who needed her parents. We saw how hard you fought to come back from that." A sigh. "I'm sorry I didn't say this sooner. I'm proud of you, Leia."

The words didn't fit. Didn't compute. She stared at the ceiling as if the stars there could translate them for her. "Even now?"

"Especially now," her mum said, voice a little steadier. "You survived it. And you're still surviving. Every day, I think."

Leia's throat closed up. For a moment she couldn't hear anything but static, the blood in her ears. Then, soft and small, "Thank you. I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything," her dad told her. "Just keep going."

Her mum chimed in, voice gentler now, almost embarrassed by the effort of caring. "Call if you want to talk. Tomorrow, or the next day or any after that."

She hung up and held the phone in her hands, staring at it, waiting for the impact that never came. The world was still ugly and loud and unkind outside these walls, but in this small, rented room, none of it could touch her. Not right now. There was only the slow, stuttering rhythm of her breath and the truth of her parents' voices, rough and honest for the first time in years. Maybe the sting would come later, when she tried to sleep and the headlines crawled behind her eyelids like beetles. For now, she felt... not okay, but not destroyed.

She rolled onto her back, pillow bunched beneath her head, and stared at the blank TV screen. Her reflection stared back: not the ruined girl of the video, not the tabloid headline, but the woman who had outlasted every version of herself that had tried to die.

She traced the line of her own jaw, the fine scatter of freckles across her nose, the messy tangle of hair that had inspired a decade of alt-pop imitators. This was her face. And underneath it, beneath the muscle memory of shame, a stubbornness burned.

Fuck them, she thought. The ones who said she'd never change, never last, never get clean. The ones who would replay the worst night of her life again and again, like it was the only song in her discography that mattered. She'd written better ones since then. She would write better ones still.

For the first time since she got back to the hotel, she let her mind drift to Taylor, to the clear blue of her eyes and the way she never looked away from pain, even when it scared her. She pictured Taylor backstage, maybe pacing, nervy and kinetic, waiting for Leia to call or text or just show up. Waiting for her to choose.

She stared at the ceiling and weighed her options. Curl up and wait for the world to move on without her, or get up and make them see her as she was now, not then. The decision felt impossibly heavy, but after the phone call, she couldn't unhear her mother's voice: You survived. You're still surviving. Every day, I think.

Leia didn't want to survive tonight. She wanted to live it.

She threw back the covers, swung her legs to the floor, and forced herself upright. Her body felt like it belonged to someone else, a stiffer, rougher, older cousin of the body in the video. But she gathered herself, found the charger cable that had migrated under the nightstand, and plugged her phone in just long enough to get a few bars of battery.

The show was less than an hour from starting, and she knew that Taylor would be counting the minutes, pretending not to, getting ready to climb into another full stadium with a smile on her face and a splinter of worry in her heart.

Leia jabbed at the phone, scrolled to Drew, and hit dial. The phone rang twice before he picked up, his voice as calm and steady as ever.

"Hey. You need a ride?"

She almost laughed. "Yeah. I really, really need a ride."

"Ten minutes," he said.

She didn't bother with makeup but washed her face twice, yanked on a clean reputation tour hoodie, and tied her shoes with the kind of double knot that preempted tripping over herself. She'd left the hotel room a mess, but that felt appropriate to the day.

In the lobby, Drew was already waiting by the side entrance, keys in hand, sunglasses perched on his head. He gave her a quick once-over, didn't comment on the streaks under her eyes or the dark hollows above her cheekbones, but just said, "You good?"

Leia nodded, and meant it more than she expected.

"Let's go," she said.

Drew drove without music, the silence between them companionable. Out the window, LA was a hot plate of haze and traffic, every billboard another reminder that her world was on fire. Drew didn't ask questions or offer platitudes. He just took the turns tight and smooth, like every second mattered.

She tried to picture Taylor, backstage in the green room, maybe pacing in her slippers and a robe, binder full of set lists in hand even though she'd memorised every one by heart.

Drew pulled into the venue's underground parking, weaving past a convoy of catering vans and stagehands on golf carts. He stopped as close to the VIP entrance as he could get.

"You sure?" he asked, as if there might still be a way to turn around, drive back to the hotel, and let the world play out without her.

Leia nodded.

Drew led the way, his bulk a buffer against the radio static of security chatter and the frantic shuffle of crew prepping for the last show. Leia walked half a step behind, hoodie sleeves pulled down over her wrists, hands balled into fists. Every footfall sounded louder than it should have, echoing off concrete and metal, underscored by the thud of blood in her ears.

They were just rounding the first corner when Tree appeared, seemingly conjured by the scent of adrenaline and existential dread. She looked up from her tablet, clocked Leia, and for a split-second her perfectly engineered face flickered with something like relief.

"Leia," Tree called, voice sharp as a bell. "I'm glad you're here."

Leia shrugged, unsure if it was a statement or an accusation. "Didn't want to spend the evening reading my own eulogy on Twitter."

Tree arched an eyebrow, then snapped the tablet smartly shut. "You'll have to move. If you want to make it to the tent without getting mobbed or photographed, you've got about four minutes. Tops." She looked pointedly at Leia's outfit. "Nice hoodie, by the way. Very subtle."

Leia couldn't help herself. "Thanks. It's like vintage."

Tree didn't smile, but her gaze softened a degree. "Follow me."

They wound through the catacombs of the stadium, past catering, past the press bullpen, past a gauntlet of techs who didn't quite look away fast enough. Drew flanked them, one hand curled into a loose fist, the other hovering near his earpiece. Leia tried to keep her breathing even as they wove closer to the main floor; the air grew colder, shot through with the metallic tang of fog machines and the faint whiff of popcorn from the upper decks.

The timer had reached zero and the lights were off now in the stadium, the darkness helping to hide them as they stepped into the rumble.

Tree set a relentless pace, heels clacking, every stride eating up the distance to the short walking path from the wings of the stadium to the VIP tent facing the end of the left side catwalk. Just before they reached it, she spun to face Leia, lowering her voice so only the three of them could hear.

"They're all in there," she said, nodding to the tent. "You go in now, you're family. I've already briefed security - no one else gets in until showtime."

Leia hesitated, the word family ricocheting around her chest like a stray bullet. Tree saw it, and for once didn't try to patch the silence with a platitude.

"I'm proud of you," she said, and it was so abrupt Leia almost laughed. "For coming here. For not hiding. For... you know, all of it."

Leia blinked, then ducked her head. "Thanks. For not like, calling Dr. Phil."

Tree's mouth tightened into something resembling a smile. "If I wanted Dr. Phil, I'd have called your mother."

Drew snorted. Tree smirked, then gestured toward the tent. "Come on, show's starting."

She was spotted before she could even do a full scan: Este, her hair piled in a wild crown of braids, made a whooping sound and nearly body-checked Danielle in her rush to cross the space. "There she is!" Este crowed, arms high. "Our girl's alive. I owe someone twenty bucks."

Leia braced for impact and was nearly lifted off her feet in the embrace, Este squeezing her like she was juicing an orange. For a second, the air pressed out of Leia's lungs, and then she found herself laughing, small and startled, as Danielle and Alana joined the crush from either side, arms pinning her in a three-way Haim sandwich.

The cold air on her cheeks was instantly replaced with their warmth, and she realised how starved for touch she'd been today, how she'd tensed against the possibility of comfort only to find it everywhere.

"You okay?" Alana murmured into her ear as they finally let up, her voice soft with the kind of worry that never showed on stage.

"I will be."

_____